Lisa realized her time was running out. Hadley’s group had surrounded him, eager to leave. “Twenty years back? Thirty? What was the guy’s name, do you remember?”
“Twenty, twenty-five years. I didn’t pay too much attention. All I know is, Red Mitchell got some damn fool idea into his head that his sick horse needed special medicine from a guy holed up in the mountains. Had some Native American blood, as I recall. Sioux maybe, or Comanche.”
Lisa nodded eagerly, storing the information for future reference. “His name!” she pleaded.
Hadley raked through his memory one last time. “Maybe it was Stone. Zak Stone. Yeah, I guess that was it.”
“Hang on just a minute!” Sandy Scott had trouble taking in Kirstie’s eager plan. She’d returned from her afternoon ride to find her daughter transformed. Instead of a listless, anxious wreck, she’d been greeted by this energetic blonde whirlwind. “Tell me one more time!”
“Zak Stone!” Kirstie repeated the name. “Lisa and me asked Hadley about him. Then we called all the old-timers on the ranches around here!”
“You’ve been running up my phone bill, huh?” Her mom refused to be drawn in. Instead, she poured herself a cup of coffee.
“Grandpa couldn’t recall much more than Hadley,” Lisa reported. “But Jim Mullins at Lazy B said everyone knew about Zak Stone in those days. He had a name as the best horse doctor in the West.”
“So how come I never heard of him?” Sandy sat down wearily at the table.
“Because he’s a hermit!” Kirstie jumped back in. “You know; he don’t.”
“‘Doesn’t’!” Sandy corrected.
“He doesn’t like having folks around. Lives in the backwoods on Rainbow Mountain in south east Montana. If people want to see him, they gotta find their own way. You could drive for days across country, I guess, and turn up at his place without knowing for sure that you’d find him home.”
“Very convenient!” Sandy looked up at Matt, who had just come in, with a sigh that said “Help!”
“Find who home?” Kirstie’s brother asked. He too looked dead beat.
“Zak Stone!” Kirstie began the explanations all over again. “Part Sioux…old, Native American remedies…herbs and stuff…works like magic… holed up in the mountains of Montana!”
“And all this is over twenty years back,” Sandy stressed. “He hasn’t even been heard of in these parts for at least five years. So forget it, Matt. And Kirstie, don’t even think what I think you’re thinking about!”
“The best in the West!” Kirstie repeated.
It was late evening. She and Matt stood in the barn, gazing quietly into Lucky’s stall. The only sounds were the whispering rustles of hidden, small creatures creeping through the hay or perched on rafters, and the painful rasps of Lucky’s lungs as he struggled to draw breath.
“Yeah, but logically, Mom’s got a point.” Matt had a foot in each camp; he saw that the Zak Stone option might be a straw to clutch at, but equally he agreed with Sandy that it was at best a long shot as far as finding a cure for Lucky went.
In…out, in and out again. Kirstie stared at the difficult, double lift of Lucky’s ribcage as he breathed out through the blocked airways. “What’s logic got to do with it?” she whispered.
“Sandy? Lennie Goodman here.”
Kirstie had picked up the phone early next morning, thinking it might be Glen Woodford with Lucky’s test results. “Hi, Lennie. This is Kirstie. Mom’s right here.”
She handed over the phone and stuck around, hearing the mild surprise in Sandy’s voice and her repetition of Lisa’s grandpa’s words.
“Zak Stone? Not that name again!” Kirstie’s mom tried to make light of the question that had been hanging over the family all night. “My crazy daughter’s half persuaded my sane son that driving a truck across America with a sick horse to see a Sioux horse doctor who might not even be alive after all these years is a good
“Twenty, twenty-five years. I didn’t pay too much attention. All I know is, Red Mitchell got some damn fool idea into his head that his sick horse needed special medicine from a guy holed up in the mountains. Had some Native American blood, as I recall. Sioux maybe, or Comanche.”
Lisa nodded eagerly, storing the information for future reference. “His name!” she pleaded.
Hadley raked through his memory one last time. “Maybe it was Stone. Zak Stone. Yeah, I guess that was it.”
“Hang on just a minute!” Sandy Scott had trouble taking in Kirstie’s eager plan. She’d returned from her afternoon ride to find her daughter transformed. Instead of a listless, anxious wreck, she’d been greeted by this energetic blonde whirlwind. “Tell me one more time!”
“Zak Stone!” Kirstie repeated the name. “Lisa and me asked Hadley about him. Then we called all the old-timers on the ranches around here!”
“You’ve been running up my phone bill, huh?” Her mom refused to be drawn in. Instead, she poured herself a cup of coffee.
“Grandpa couldn’t recall much more than Hadley,” Lisa reported. “But Jim Mullins at Lazy B said everyone knew about Zak Stone in those days. He had a name as the best horse doctor in the West.”
“So how come I never heard of him?” Sandy sat down wearily at the table.
“Because he’s a hermit!” Kirstie jumped back in. “You know; he don’t.”
“‘Doesn’t’!” Sandy corrected.
“He doesn’t like having folks around. Lives in the backwoods on Rainbow Mountain in south east Montana. If people want to see him, they gotta find their own way. You could drive for days across country, I guess, and turn up at his place without knowing for sure that you’d find him home.”
“Very convenient!” Sandy looked up at Matt, who had just come in, with a sigh that said “Help!”
“Find who home?” Kirstie’s brother asked. He too looked dead beat.
“Zak Stone!” Kirstie began the explanations all over again. “Part Sioux…old, Native American remedies…herbs and stuff…works like magic… holed up in the mountains of Montana!”
“And all this is over twenty years back,” Sandy stressed. “He hasn’t even been heard of in these parts for at least five years. So forget it, Matt. And Kirstie, don’t even think what I think you’re thinking about!”
“The best in the West!” Kirstie repeated.
It was late evening. She and Matt stood in the barn, gazing quietly into Lucky’s stall. The only sounds were the whispering rustles of hidden, small creatures creeping through the hay or perched on rafters, and the painful rasps of Lucky’s lungs as he struggled to draw breath.
“Yeah, but logically, Mom’s got a point.” Matt had a foot in each camp; he saw that the Zak Stone option might be a straw to clutch at, but equally he agreed with Sandy that it was at best a long shot as far as finding a cure for Lucky went.
In…out, in and out again. Kirstie stared at the difficult, double lift of Lucky’s ribcage as he breathed out through the blocked airways. “What’s logic got to do with it?” she whispered.
“Sandy? Lennie Goodman here.”
Kirstie had picked up the phone early next morning, thinking it might be Glen Woodford with Lucky’s test results. “Hi, Lennie. This is Kirstie. Mom’s right here.”
She handed over the phone and stuck around, hearing the mild surprise in Sandy’s voice and her repetition of Lisa’s grandpa’s words.
“Zak Stone? Not that name again!” Kirstie’s mom tried to make light of the question that had been hanging over the family all night. “My crazy daughter’s half persuaded my sane son that driving a truck across America with a sick horse to see a Sioux horse doctor who might not even be alive after all these years is a good
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